InsaneJournal

Peter had been worried about his wedding. He knew that having a big gathering of people together wasn’t a good idea. He knew it was asking for trouble, and maybe he was being selfish by insisting that they invite anyone in the rebellion who had felt confident enough to come to celebrate his wedding to Kamala. He knew that doing it was likely to end in tragedy.

But he hadn’t let himself be talked out of it. He’d said it would be fine. He thought everyone needed a party, really. Things had been grim, and sometimes it seemed like there was no end in sight. But in times of darkness, it was important to focus on the good. And so he’d held firm. Anyone who wanted to come for something that was good, something they could celebrate after three years of losses was welcome.

And so far, everything had gone smoothly. Or as smoothly as any wedding could be expected to go. No one had died yet, and that was the important thing. His Spidey-Sense had been weak these last years, but some corner of his mind had been focused on it this whole time. Even a few seconds of warning was better than none at all.

But it had been quiet. He wished that he could be sure that it was quiet because there was nothing to worry about, instead of wondering whether or not it was quiet because it just wasn’t working anymore.

He wouldn’t let his unease show. Not here, not when he pulled Wanda onto the dance floor for something that might have been a mother-son dance, had Wanda been his mother and had Peter been her son. They were near enough, after these last eight years.

“So far so good,” Peter said, and then winced. “Wait, no, did I just jinx it? I think I just jinxed it. Quick, complain about the cake or something.”

The cake which had really… not been that great, given how scarce sugar and how prevalent potatoes were these days.

Tonight would be perfect, and as the hostess – it was her cottage – she would make sure of it. Living in a war-ravaged hellscape wasn’t anything she didn’t know before with having hidden in the rubble of her home for two days, the corpses of her parents not far, waiting for a bomb to go several feet from her and Pietro that never did. Wanda was deep in it again, stuck in a place that had taken her family, her friends. That had killed her friends. By now, she was numb to it.

Peter, however, deserved whatever goodness that remained. A chance to be happy. It may not be permanent – but these moments should be created without fear. So she was actively supportive, and did her best to coordinate and work with food options and decorations with whatever was available to them.

It wasn’t what they could have had, or should have had, but it was beautiful.

“You didn’t jinx anything,” she assured him, all smiles, happy and honored to have this dance with him. They were family – they didn’t need to share blood for it to be true. “The cake was a little salty. And dry, but I was really excited to just eat something that looked even remotely to cake.”

Peter relaxed. “Well, if you say so,” Peter said. Logically, he knew that Wanda saying he didn’t jinx anything wasn’t any more reliable than him jinxing things in the first place, but it was still comforting to hear. Not because of the chaos magic that she controlled – even if she couldn’t use it much now – but because she was Wanda and she’d spent almost a decade making Peter feel safe and cared for.

“The cake did look pretty good. And I’ve always loved mashed potatoes.”

He turned her on the dance floor, and then looked at the guests. People still looked tired, worn-down. But he didn’t think he’d seen this many people smiling in the same place in… well, in a long time.

“Thanks for helping put everything together, Wanda. I know this wasn’t a great time.” When was, these days? “But it means a lot to have you all here. I know Kamala feels the same way. It’s not an ideal time to have a wedding, but you and Carol really helped make it feel…normal.”

Wanda spun, the skirt of her dress (something old, but held up through the years with any stains being washed out by handmade soap and water) fanning out around her until she came back to Peter. “People lose opportunities waiting for the fabled ‘right time,’” she pointed out. “It’s good that you did this, Peter. The two of you deserve it.”

Vallo hadn’t been fair to them. It had always been equal parts give and take until it became all take. “Even when things were easier – making this decision was risky. You know I’ve made it. It may have taken Stephen away from me all those years ago but you know I have no regrets, and you shouldn’t either.”

Wanda was right. There’d been so many people getting blipped early on, before they’d even known that Interitus was a threat, that it had felt like everyone had been doing nothing but walking on shaky ground. But they’d slowed down to almost normal levels now, and people dying, people being turned into a shell of their former selves, those were the biggest threats now. It was sometimes easy to forget that even before people had started dying, people had still been taken away from each other.

“I won’t,” Peter promised, turning his head until he spotted Kamala. Their eyes met, and he shot her a quick smile before he turned back to Wanda. “I don’t think I’ll ever regret this, no matter what else happens.”

Wanda witnessed that exchange. She couldn’t contain her smile – it was precious. It reminded her how she’d catch Billy and Teddy looking at one another when they were here, full of adoration. Their absence hit her hard, but she tried to focus o9n how she at least had some time with them.

Tommy had been happy, too. He and Toph were–

“Good,” she told him, her smile wobbling for a split second as she felt her throat constrict. Wanda willed the feeling to go away. Tonight wasn’t the time. “You both have learned to make it work. Keep doing that. And despite the apocalypse – you look very handsome, and very grown up. Not so much baby face anymore.”

“I’m still a bit of a baby face,” Peter said, pleased. “But I don’t mind so much. Kamala likes my face, at least.”

“That’s all that matters,” Wanda laughed softly, reaching up to pat his cheek with affection. “I know this place offers very little in hopes for a scenic honeymoon but I hope you’ll take enough time to spend it with just the two of you. I’ll keep things going here.”

“My students’ll be lost without me, but I think we can probably take a couple of days to enjoy the married life,” Peter said. “You know, take a warm vacation, go house hunting. I’m thinking… white picket fence? I’ve always wanted a white picket fence. Maybe a dog.”

He grimaced. He’d meant to make a joke, but, “Ouch, I think I just hurt my own feelings.”

Wanda mirrored his look. That was – yes, ouch was the word. “It’s a nice dream,” she told him, not unkindly. “I think there’s still hope for it down the line.”

Did she think that, deep down?

It was a mystery. But she had to hold on hope for the people she loved to help keep them afloat. Otherwise they were just waiting for one another to be picked off, either to die or to be puppetted.

“I’ll help keep fighting for that future for you, though,” she whispered, the song coming to an end. So did the movement of their feet. “You’ll get that vacation, and house. The fence and the puppy. Some day.”

Peter’s vision blurred. There were only happy tears at his wedding – he’d made it a rule – but he thought this was close enough. He wasn’t crying over a loss of a future that could have been, but from an overflowing of gratitude to the woman who’d stepped in to be there for him in the months after May’s death, and who’d been like an aunt, or a mother, to him for all the years following that.

He stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight hug, not tight enough that he was going to break any ribs, but what most people would have considered a bear hug, and hoped to convey all the gratitude and love he had for her through it.